


and i want you to unravel me

by smc_27



Series: quarantine dreams [2]
Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, as requested..., but here's whatever this is, centred around Cassandra/Gordie's wedding and Harry's thoughts about the green dress, followup to existing quarantine fic, like can we imagine a post-quarantine world? who even knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25186267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smc_27/pseuds/smc_27
Summary: All he’s heard about for weeks is this wedding. And he’s not enough of a dick to say he just wants to get it over with, but Allie juggling work, and him, and Cassandra, and her parents, and all the extra pre-wedding crap he didn’t even know was a thing? That, he’s not gonna miss.OR, Harry and Allie at Cassandra and Gordie's wedding a year post-quarantine.
Relationships: Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman
Series: quarantine dreams [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824532
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	and i want you to unravel me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a followup to you're one of the few things that i'm sure of. You don't have to read that to get what's going on here; this is mostly established relationship fluff and flirting and nonsense + a wedding.

All he’s heard about for weeks is this wedding. And he’s not enough of a dick to say he just wants to get it over with, but Allie juggling work, and him, and Cassandra, and her parents, and all the extra pre-wedding crap he didn’t even know was a thing? _That_ , he’s not gonna miss. 

And he feels for Cassandra and Gordie, because this thing was supposed to happen last year, but, well, global health crisis. Harry absolutely doesn’t understand why they pushed everything back a year instead of just not having a big wedding, but that’s their business. And he sort of gets it, okay? When he thinks of someday, maybe, if she wants to, getting married…

All he’s saying is that if he and Allie were gonna have a wedding, he’d probably feel sentimental or something about it, too. 

She says to him one night, just over a month out, that she doesn’t really understand why people do this anyway, when everything’s so stressful. Harry’s just looking at her, thinking of her, someday, maybe, if she wants to, walking towards him in a white dress. 

Allie rolls her eyes. “Stop fantasizing about marrying me,” she says, smiling like she doesn’t really mean it. 

“Okay,” he tells her, and she leans her head back against the sofa and looks at him like she’s kinda fantasizing about it, too. 

… … …

She’s currently making a list of songs the DJ is absolutely not allowed to play - because Cassandra does not want any of their weird uncles dancing around to Let’s Get It On - and Harry’s making her a grilled cheese because she asked and he likes to give her what she wants. She wonders, out loud, if I Will Survive should be banned and he shrugs his shoulders like he really doesn’t care. 

He says, “No Nickelback. No ABBA. No B-52s.” He’s counting them off on his fingers. 

They’re being stupid and joking about bad songs, playing them at top volume from her laptop despite them being _bad_. Allie says they should’ve cancelled the DJ and just had her and Harry make a kickass playlist. 

Cassandra calls, and starts talking before Allie’s even said hello or had a chance to tell her she’s on speaker. 

“The rental company just called and said they double booked and oversold the gold and white cross back chairs, and offered us these stupid ugly all white plastic ones instead.”

Allie looks at Harry and she can _tell_ he’s going lawyer mode. Which is sort of hilarious, because it’s not like Cassandra couldn’t also read a contract and see if she could hold them to something. Allie just thinks if they don’t have it, they don’t have it. 

“Which company?” Harry asks. 

“Elder Lane,” Cassandra says. Allie knows the company only because she used to see their trucks driving around Connecticut during the summers. Wedding season, she now realizes. 

Harry’s reaching for his phone and Allie furrows her brow. 

“I know the owner,” he explains, and Cassandra’s quiet. “Seth Malding. He used to play tennis with my dad.” Allie blinks, tries not to smile. He’s being _nice_. “Let me make a couple calls.”

He goes into his office and Allie hears, “Seth! Harry Bingham,” and she’s gotten really familiar with the way he greets other rich people in the last year and a half. 

“Your boyfriend is like, really coming in handy these days,” Cassandra says, and Allie thinks it’s hilarious (and really loves) the way her sister says that. Your boyfriend. Like they haven’t known Harry at least peripherally since they moved to West Ham when they were 5 and 6 years old. 

And she’s absolutely referring to the fact that he helped them sort out all the contracts and changes and postponement stuff last summer, and make sure they were covered for any possible contingencies this year. He also negotiated with the caterer on their behalf to get a free late night station. But Allie knows 100% that he did that only because he didn’t like the way the chef was looking at her, and wanted to throw his weight around. Yet another thing she shouldn’t have found hot, but did. She doesn’t think too hard about what that says about her.

“He’s not totally useless.” 

Harry emerges 10 minutes later, says, “Sorted,” and Cassandra thanks him and Allie sets her hand on his thigh when he sits back down. 

… … …

Cassandra, Bean, some girls whose names he doesn’t know but went to Yale with her, and a cousin of Allie’s from out of town all come in for a bachelorette that they’re not calling a bachelorette. Cassandra says it’s going to be _classy_ , but Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. He’s seen the amount of champagne Allie bought for the event. The outfit she got, too. It’s absolutely a bachelorette, but fighting with Cassandra isn’t so fun anymore when the consequence for him is that Allie gets mad. 

He doesn’t think of their place as ‘his’ anymore. But having it taken over by six women, half of whom he’s never met before, does give him pause and wonder how he’s possibly let this happen. 

Not that he minds spending the night in a hotel room nearby. He’s made plans, too, to catch up with one of his Harvard buddies he doesn’t see often enough. Dude’s a doctor and by some small miracle, their schedules coincided. 

Allie’s spent days sorting out sleeping arrangements and buying whatever shit she thinks she’ll need. She’s planning a massive brunch in the morning, as if they aren’t all going to be so hungover they just want McDonald’s. But he isn’t going to have that fight again. 

Harry sticks around just long enough to say hi. Allie kisses him soundly in the hallway before the door is closed and all the girls make a big deal of it. 

“Be good,” he tells her, and she shakes her head no. 

He laughs and kisses her forehead. 

The next day, he’s not sure what he’s gonna walk into. Judging by the string of barely coherent texts he received from both Allie and Cassandra, he figures it’ll be bad. He isn’t wrong, really. The kitchen is a fucking disaster and they’re all looking a little worse for wear. Allie looks tired, but happy to see him. Cassandra looks the roughest of all of them, so Harry says her name too loudly and flops down on the sofa next to her just to be a jackass. 

Allie tells him not to judge them for finishing all six bottles of champagne between last night and mimosas this morning. He also notices the half empty bottle of Cuervo on the counter. 

“You all going for some kind of record? Jesus.”

“We don’t have to justify our actions to you, Harry,” Cassandra snaps, teasing. He thinks. 

Allie’s wearing one of his tee shirts with her little shorts. He kind of can’t wait for everyone else to leave. 

Cassandra gives him a leather bound journal as a thank you for letting them kick him out of his place for the night. He kisses her on the cheek when she leaves, which is a thing they started doing post-quarantine. Never thought he’d see the day, to be honest.

… … …

She wears black linen shorts and a white tank top for the drive to West Ham. Their fancy clothes - one set for the rehearsal dinner and then her dress and his suit for the wedding - are lying carefully in a garment bag in the trunk on top of their suitcases. He stops and gets them iced coffee before they leave Brooklyn, and makes fun of her for jumping all over the place with her music selections. 

“Ugh. Why can't you have a convertible?” she asks when they get on the highway. Harry has one hand on the wheel, the other leaning on the console. He grins over at her. 

“I could. You want one?”

“Oh my god. No. Stop.”

He laughs again. Allie slurps her drink loudly through her straw just to annoy him. 

They’re staying at his mom’s place, because she and his sister are summering in Maine like they usually do, save for last year. Allie feels absolutely ridiculous having this massive house to themselves. Harry had asked her if they should offer up any rooms to people visiting, but she’d been able to tell he didn’t really want to. And honestly, if people are travelling for a wedding, they should expect to find accommodations. There are so many B&Bs and little boutique hotels in the area. She hasn’t heard of anyone having trouble. 

She knows they have to go see her family, and she does want to, but also his pool looks really freaking inviting, and his mom has left them a fancy bottle of riesling with a note apologizing for missing them and saying she can’t wait to see them in Maine in a couple weeks’ time. 

Getting drunk with Harry in his backyard and fulfilling some teenage dream or settling a score about being with the hottest guy in town…

Well, there’s time for that later, she guesses. 

Harry has totally won over her dad. Gordie has, too, actually. And right now, in Allie’s backyard, Gordie’s entire family, including his brother and his brother’s wife and their baby, and all living grandparents, it’s really standing out to her that this feels really...solid. Not that it hasn’t for longer than she was even living with Harry, but watching him stand near the grill, beer in hand, shirt untucked, smiling and chatting with her dad and her soon-to-be brother-in-law, she just feels a real sense of contentment that she almost didn’t expect. 

He rubs her shoulder when he comes over, says, “Food’s almost ready,” because he knows she’s starving. He offers to get her another daiquiri - the only alcoholic drink her mom likes - and then ends up in the kitchen with the blender going, and…

“He’s a keeper,” her grandma says, and Gordie’s grandma nods along. 

Allie doesn’t feel like sassing old people is fair, so she smiles and says, “I think so,” and Cassandra’s looking at her like _you’re next_.

… … …

He wakes up and hears the shower running, and Allie’s not next to him. The sheets smell like chlorine and he grins as he stretches, thinking about last night, about coming back here with her and opening that bottle and swimming in the dark. Allie, tipsy and hot, saying something about how his backyard is so private, and tugging at the strings of her bikini top. Harry, tipsy and wanting her, saying something about her being crazy, but letting her push his bathing suit down off his hips, anyway. And then falling into bed with wet hair and leaving their suits and towels in a heap on the floor. He notices they’re not there anymore. He’s not sure what she’s done with them, but he appreciates the care anyway. 

When she opens the bathroom door to let the steam out so the mirrors will clear, he sees that she’s not wearing anything, not even a towel, and watches appreciatively as she puts on her serums and moisturizers and whatever. He knows the whole routine, okay? It’s not the first time he’s watched her. 

“Creep,” she says, catching his eye. He smiles at her and she walks over, leans across the bed to kiss him. “Morning.” 

He reaches for her hip, kisses her again. “Morning.” 

She gets a sexy look on her face and asks, “Am I ever going to be able to smell chlorine again and not think about last night? Probably not.”

Harry chuckles. “It was good for me, too.” 

She cocks her brow, stands and asks, “Just good?” before she heads back into the bathroom.

Harry throws back the duvet, gets up and follows her, putting his arms around her from behind, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he says, “Better than good,” he says in her ear, and moves his hand upward to settle just below her breasts. God, she’s fucking gorgeous. “We’re hot together.” 

Allie laughs softly, dabs on her eye cream and then reaches back to settle her hand on the back of his neck. 

“Agree,” is all she says, and then she presses her ass back against him and tells him to shower. 

She talks to him while she does her makeup. He doesn’t totally know why she’s doing it so early, because the rehearsal dinner isn’t til later, but she reminds him they’re hanging out with Becca and Kelly today, and he doesn’t mean to groan, okay? He doesn’t. But spending time with his ex is always weird, and not because she’s with a woman now, but because he was a bad boyfriend then and Kelly sometimes likes to bring it up to tease him, or whatever. It’s sort of this fucked up defensive thing he does where he doesn’t want to deal with that because he doesn’t want to run the risk of Allie thinking he’s still a dick. He knows that’s stupid. He knows she’s not going to take the word of the girl he dated over 10 years ago. But still. 

“I can hang back,” he offers, knowing she probably won’t go for it, but hoping she might. “You can have a girls day or whatever.”

Allie turns around, that pink sponge thing she uses for her makeup in her hand and a look on her face that lets him know she knows _exactly_ what he’s thinking. 

“You’re coming. We’re going to that place with the crepes.”

Dammit. He loves crepes. 

“This is coercion,” he mutters, and Allie hears him and laughs. He cuts the water, gets out and reaches for a towel, runs it through his hair then down his body. He watches Allie watch him in the mirror. Her hand’s poised by her face to do something with that pink sponge, but she’s just looking at him. “Easy, Pressman. I was promised crepes.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “The only thing you like more than crepes is sex, so let’s not pretend you wouldn’t be game if I got up onto this counter right now.”

_Shit_.

“I love you more than crepes,” he tells her, resting his hand on the small of her back as he stands next to her. 

“But not sex?” she asks. Harry smirks and shrugs a shoulder, totally lying, and she rolls her eyes at him, elbows him out of the way. But he’s got a skincare routine, too, okay? Because he’s not gonna be one of those guys who ages like a leather belt. It’s important. He doesn’t move for a few moments. “What?”

He smirks, reaches for his deodorant. “Thinking about you on this counter, to be honest.”

Allie starts applying eyeshadow, blows him a kiss in the mirror, and says, “Think about crepes instead, Harry.”

He kisses her bare shoulder and turns on his electric razor. 

… … …

Allie doesn’t get the point of a rehearsal dinner. Who needs to rehearse when literally all weddings feel the same and there’s no way to fuck up walking in a straight line towards the person you’re supposed to want to be with forever, or whatever?

Harry laughs at her when she says all this. Maybe he’s laughing because they’re literally walking down this stupid aisle. Gordie’s best man got delayed in New York and will be here soon, but they started without him and Harry’s playing stand-in. Allie’d rather walk with him than this guy she’s never met, but she’s not going to be a snot about that, too. 

“You could trip,” he says. 

“Is that a threat?” She makes him laugh again and her mother hisses at her to please take this seriously. She salutes and Harry leans over and whispers that she better behave or she’ll be grounded. Gordie’s looking at them like he thinks they’re cute, or something. 

The doors separating the indoor venue from this outdoor space open again and Cassandra stands there in her pretty dress with some plain white lilies. That’s Allie’s bad. She was supposed to make sure there were flowers for this and she sort of forgot, and resorted to grabbing the flowers on the hall table at Harry’s mom’s house out of their vase and wrapping the stems together with kitchen twine. They look pretty, but they’re not ‘on theme’, or something. Cassandra still looks gorgeous walking towards them in her pale blue dress holding the makeshift bouquet. 

Allie looks over and Harry’s watching _her_ , one hand in his pocket and his stupid monogrammed sleeves rolled up to his elbows. God, who does he think he is? And why does she love this idiot so much? 

She takes the flowers from Cassandra when she gets to the front of the space, under the arch. Allie has to sneeze, tries to hold it but can’t, and then feels kind of embarrassed as she apologizes. Harry’s pressing his lips together so he doesn’t laugh. She’s allergic to lilies, okay? 

Harry holds up one finger to the officiant, then Cassandra, and takes a step forward, extends his arm, offering to take the flowers from Allie. She feels such a stupid rush of affection for him that she locks eyes with him as she passes the flowers over, then folds her hands in front of her again. Harry holds the bouquet by his side as the officiant tells them the steps of the ceremony. 

Allie hopes someone takes his picture. 

(Someone does. That someone is her dad. He gets a whole series, from Allie mid-sneeze to Harry with his finger up, to Harry holding the flowers, then him passing them back to Cassandra again and holding his arm out for Allie to take. Allie’s picturing them in frames in their apartment.) 

Gordie’s family organized this dinner, and the food is all so good Allie doesn’t socialize as much as she should. She’s busy eating, drinking mezcal with her aunt, and watching Harry get hit on by Gordie’s cousins. Yes, plural. 

“Are you going to save him?” Cassandra asks, sitting down next to her and setting her glass of white wine down on the table. 

“From what?” Allie asks incredulously, laughing a little. “Are you kidding me? Harry getting hit on like, fuels his superpowers. I’m not gonna take that away from him.”

Cassandra giggles - this is definitely her second glass of wine - and leans her head on Allie’s shoulder. “That really doesn’t bother you?”

Allie’s brow furrows and she thinks about it, shakes her head. “No? It’s...kinda hot?” Cassandra smiles, pulls away again. “I’m not jealous. It’s amusing to me when other women think they have a chance.”

Cassandra laughs loudly, and Allie smiles, takes a sip of her drink and wonders when dessert will come out. “You two are weird and I don’t get it.”

“Weird and happy.”

Cassandra’s face softens and she looks at her soon-to-be-husband. She holds up her glass to Allie. “To weird and happy.”

Allie rolls her eyes, but clinks their glasses together. 

… … …

Harry’s got the easiest job of everyone in this whole wedding, to be honest. He just has to put on his summer suit, show up, look good, and gets to dance with Allie most of the night and watch her get way too excited about the cheesecakes Cassandra picked for dessert. (Honestly, Harry hasn’t heard her stop talking about these fucking cheesecakes for _months_.) 

He doesn’t even have to go to any of the ‘pre-wedding, get ready, bunch of people trying to make a big deal of putting on clothes’ activities. After chatting with her dad about it last night, the man sounds like he shares Harry’s attitude, asks if it’d be bad if he showed up at Harry’s shaking ice in a glass to be filled with scotch. Harry had laughed, patted Jim on the shoulder and said he was welcome if he could escape. 

He’s lying in bed while Allie shoves all her makeup into her bag and walks around the place in her bra and underwear. He asks why she’s taking all her own shit when there’s supposed to be a makeup artist there, and she gives him a look like he’s insane. 

“Did you learn nothing from the pandemic? You think I’m gonna let some stranger use a communal brush on my eyes?”

Harry holds up his hands, showing that he’ll drop it. But also, “Your makeup always looks so good when you do it. Why pay someone else?”

She gives him a look like he’s cute and clueless, says, “Just wait,” and his heart races a little, wondering how goddamn good she’s gonna look when she’s all put together with hair and makeup and that _dress_.

Allie kisses him goodbye, gets into the car with her mom, who’s picked her up to take her to their place, and Harry makes himself something to eat and a cup of coffee. He sort of laughs to himself, because he’s literally got nothing to do for like, several hours until he needs to shower, shave, and get dressed. What he decides to do is sit in the sun by the pool, some music playing from the sound system they’ve always had out here. He goes for a few laps when he gets too hot, then dries off and sends Allie a picture of him with his hair slicked back the way he knows she likes to see sometimes. She sends him a picture of her with her hair in huge rollers, no makeup on, and a glass of champagne in her hand. 

Here’s the thing. He knows she sent him this picture because her nails have been polished black for the wedding, and she knows how much he loves to see her with dark nails. It’s just...a thing, okay? It’s really fucking hot. There’s something so sexy about it. Particularly when she’s touching his skin. He kind of can’t get enough of the visual. Maybe it’s predictable, but he doesn’t care. 

For all the shit he’s talked about this wedding in the last month, he’s really looking forward to tonight. 

Once he’s showered, moisturized and shaved and put a little product in his hair, he reaches to unzip his garment bag. He chose his blue summer suit, because Allie wouldn’t let him wear his ivory linen one. Something about not wanting him to piss off Cassandra by wearing something close to white. She didn’t appreciate it when he’d asked out loud if she really thought anyone would mistake him for the bride. But whatever. This is a great suit and he knows how good he looks in it with a crisp white shirt underneath and a sleek white pocket square, folded and pressed because that’s just who he is, okay? He slips on his cognac belt and ties his shoes, then drops his phone into his breast pocket along with his license and a credit card. 

There’s valet at the venue, but there’s no way in hell he trust one of these burnouts from West Ham High with his car, okay? Absolutely not. 

The first person he sees that he knows is Sam, who’s handing out programs at the door. Harry signs that Sam looks good - because he does - and Sam thanks him and tells him Grizz is inside, if Harry wants to go say hi. Of course he does. He’s stopped by Becca and Kelly, who both look pretty in pastels, or whatever. 

He really just wants to see Allie. He knows they’ve got rooms for the bridal parties down the hall from the reception space, but he also thinks Cassandra will murder him if he doesn’t do exactly what he’s supposed to do. Which is show up, sit down in the row behind Allie’s parents, and clap when things are done. 

Allie texts him, _’I saw you pull up. Come find me._ It’s kind of ridiculously hot and exactly what he wants to do. But he gets stopped by Gordie’s dad, then Allie’s aunt and uncle, and Grizz. And then Gordie’s cousin, the one who was hitting on him last night, stops him and starts talking about how pretty everything is. He checks his watch - a Breitling that matches one his dad had - and knows there’s no way he’s gonna have time to see her before things start. The program says the ceremony begins in 10 minutes. 

He walks to the back hall anyway. Fuck it. 

The door to the guys’ room is open, and he sees Gordie’s best man just now buttoning his shirt. Harry doesn’t like the guy, but it’s none of his business and he’s not saying anything to anyone. (He’s just going to quietly give a _look_ when Allie has to have her arm through that asshat’s. Not that Harry’s jealous or thinks she’s gonna...Okay, he’s jealous, but that’s because he _liked_ last night and getting to stand in for this guy who doesn’t know how to plug an address into Google Maps and get somewhere on time.)

He taps on the door across the hall he figures is the right one, and Bean swings it open, smiles at him as she rolls her eyes and calls for Allie. He leans against the frame and tilts his head as Allie stands in that _fucking_ dress and walks towards him. He knows he’s smirking at her, but like. Shit. _Shit_.

Cassandra tells him to come in and close the door. He doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Allie sets her hand on his shoulder, says, “Don’t kiss me. It’ll ruin my makeup.”

He lets out a breath, reaches for her hand so he can step back and look at her. He’s very aware that everyone’s watching him. Them. 

“Look at you.” 

And she was right about the makeup. He’s not saying he doesn’t think she always looks good, but this...her eyes are fucking stunning, and this lip colour is great. And she _knows_ it, too. Her hair’s half pinned back and falling down her back in these big waves. 

He’s sure Cassandra looks pretty, or whatever, but like…

“Are you just gonna stand there and stare?” Cassandra laughs, and he raises his brow, glances at her. 

“Until someone stops me.” She rolls her eyes, but he can tell she thinks it’s sweet. He lets go of Allie, reluctantly, crosses the room and presses a gentle kiss to Cassandra’s hair, his hand on her back over the lace of her dress. “You look beautiful.”

Look, it's not that he lacks all sense of tact. He knows he should compliment the bride before he compliments her sister. 

So when he turns back to Allie and says, “But _you_...” and they all laugh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

Allie sips her champagne with a straw and gives him eyes that make him want to take her home right now, and he sets his hand on her waist, leans in and speaks into her ear. She slides her hand up his back just the way he likes. 

“I love you,” is what he says, instead of anything about wanting to get her out of this dress. 

Allie blinks at him when he pulls away, catches his hand and squeezes. “You too.” 

Harry leaves with a smile on his face, finds his seat, and tries not to think of what it might be like to marry her. 

… … …

The way Harry’s been looking at her all night might make her propose. 

It’s distracting as hell, and she likes it so much it’s honestly a little crazy. She’s not stupid, okay? She knows she looks good. She knows he likes her makeup and hair and nails. And this dress. Because she’s had it for way too close to a year and a half at this point, and the first time he saw it he told her she looked hot. A month ago when she put it on to make sure it still fit, panicking a little because _what if it didn’t_ , he’d been lying back on the bed and said, “Jesus,” and placed his hand on his heart like she was killing him, or something. 

And if she’s being honest, he couldn’t look any better in that fucking suit if he tried. 

He’s sipping a drink somewhere in the venue while they take a million and one pictures and Allie’s _starving_ and would really love for him to come over here and share his drink with her - she doesn’t even care what it is. It’s probably some fancy scotch like he likes to drink that she thinks tastes like pond scum. But she’d take it right now. 

It’s Cassandra who tells the photographer’s assistant to go get Harry for photos. Allie is surprised and _way_ too excited. “Are you sure?” she asks, and Cassandra furrows her brow like _of course_.

The way Harry’s arm slips around her waist so easily when he comes to stand next to her with her whole family and Gordie (who she guesses is part of her whole family) makes her feel like she could cry. They take a few like this, then with the whole extended families, and then ones of just her, Harry, Cassandra and Gordie, and then just her and Harry. He’s much better arm candy than the best man. Harry’s laughing in the photos after she says that to him, then he puts his hand on her neck and kisses her forehead and she hears the shutter going then, too. 

She also really appreciates that her sister figured the bridal party would want to sit with their significant others, and organized the seating chart in such a way that Allie can sit with Harry instead of Keith, who, for an MIT grad seems to have a surprisingly low number of functioning brain cells. 

Harry keeps leaning over to speak in her ear, using that voice he knows she goes a little weak for, and she tells him to stop but he doesn’t. After they’re finished eating, she turns to him, slides her hand along his shoulders. 

“Harry, please remember that two can play this game, and I already have a leg up because your poker face is shit and I know how badly you’ve wanted to take me home since the second you saw me.”

He laughs a little, reaches for his glass and swirls his scotch around, ice clinking gently against the crystal. He looks at her darkly. “Why d’you think I’m laying it on so thick? I need to even the playing field somehow. You’re not even _trying_ , and I’m…”

She laughs when he doesn’t finish. She knows him well enough to know the end of that sentence was pure filth, and she leans over and kisses him, feels him smile against her mouth. 

She can see him watching as she dances with Keith. Allie’s annoyed Cassandra went with these stupid traditional first dance things. But as soon as the next song comes on, she looks at Harry, tilts her head and he gets up, buttons his suit jacket and heads towards her. 

“Keith seems nice,” he says, completely teasing.

“Shut up.” He laughs, turns her a little. She always forgets he knows how to dance. His mom had insisted on lessons when he was 12 or 13 or something. Something about a coming out ball or being ready to be an escort at one or something. Anyway, it’s annoying that his rich ass is like, _dapper_ sometimes.

“How long do we actually have to stay?” She laughs out his name, but he just grins. “I’m serious.” 

“You can leave whenever you want. I have to stay to the end.” 

He gives her a look like that’s crazy and she knows it. “As if I’m leaving without you.”

Allie leans up, kisses him on the mouth, and then when the song ends, her parents are splitting them up and he’s dancing with her mom while Allie pairs off with her dad. 

“Stop smooching your boyfriend in front of your parents,” he says, not at all seriously. Allie laughs, looks over her shoulder at Harry chatting casually with her mom. “Hold off on having one of these so I can save up again.” Allie rolls her eyes at him. She and Harry aren’t getting married any time soon. Then her dad laughs before she can say anything. “Actually, have him pay for it.” 

Allie laughs so hard her eyes water, and then sees from the corner of her eye, the way her mom smiles gently at Harry when he says something. Allie wishes she was better at reading lips. 

… … …

Allie cries during her speech. She really tries to hold it together, but she can’t. And he knew this about her, but she even cries pretty. She dabs her eye with a tissue Gordie pulls out of his pants pocket like he knew this would happen. There’s one for Cassandra, too. Harry thinks it’s a little sweet. He just sits there with his face resting on his hand, watching. He’s heard the speech before. She wanted to run it by him. This is the final draft. He helped her with parts of it, because she was worried it wasn’t funny enough or sentimental enough. It’s both. She’s great. There’s literally no one in this room who thought she wouldn’t be.

Harry kisses her forehead, tells her she did a great job, when she comes back and sits down next to him. She leans back against his chest for the rest of the speeches, his hand moving to her hip over her dress. 

The cheesecake is good. So good he’s almost annoyed that she was so right about it. She’s smug, licks chocolate off her fork and looks at him like _I told you so_. Harry threatens to steal a bite of hers but she squeals and says, “I will literally break up with you, you little shit!” and holds her plate far away. Harry’s laughing and her parents are looking at them like they’re entertaining. He’s seen this look probably a hundred times in the last year and eight months. (And yes, he’s totally counting.)

He asks her to dance again when a song he knows she likes starts playing. She leans into him a little more than before. He thinks it’s because she’s tired and a little buzzed and happy. 

“First wedding we’ve been to together almost in the books. How’re you feeling?” he asks, and Allie takes a deep breath. 

“Let’s make sure neither of us is in the bridal party for the next one.” Harry laughs softly. “This was like, a lot. I’m jealous of Kelly and Becca, who just got to show up looking beautiful and have fun.” 

“Wanna sleep when we get home?” he asks, totally teasing.

Allie presses her fingertips into his shoulder blade and looks up at him with her eyes all dark like that. “No,” she tells him. He sorta played himself here. He takes a deep breath. “You promised to get me out of this dress. You better keep your word.”

_Shit_.

“Promise.” 

He kisses her quickly and then Cassandra and Gordie are right there next to them, and the music’s changing to this Cardi B song she and Cassandra have been obsessed with for literally years, and Harry can’t stand dancing to uptempo songs, but he does love seeing Allie like this. So he sticks around and then Gordie pats him on the shoulder and they stop and just sort of talk while the girls do their thing. Gordie’s gold band shines in the lights and Harry’s fucking happy for the guy.

Allie’s arms are wrapped around his waist as they see the newlyweds off. Most people have cleared out, but everyone who’s left gathers around in front of the venue and clap and wave and stuff. He thinks Allie might be crying again, just a little, but she wipes her eye with the side of her hand and then tells him she needs to go get her stuff and then they can leave. He says goodbye to everyone left that he knows, and then Allie slips her hand into his with her bag over her shoulder. Before they leave, she says, “Wait,” and then sneaks behind the bar, grabs a bottle of champagne they absolutely don’t need to be either stealing or drinking tonight. But it’s a little hot, her little mischief face, so he doesn’t say anything. He just takes her hand again and holds his keys in his other. 

Allie presses him up against his car in the dark and kisses the hell out of him. He’s really very into that, too. 

“You have no right still looking this good hours into the evening,” she says, and he looks at her like she’s insane, because if she thinks for a second her look hasn’t held up, she’s wrong. 

Instead of telling her any of that, he opens the door for her, says, “Get in the car, Allie,” with his voice low. She licks her lips and does as he says. 

Her hand moves up his thigh as he drives, which is fucking dangerous, and she just laughs, leans over to kiss his cheek when he tells her so. 

The second they’re alone in his room, he’s turning her around and catching her zipper between his thumb and forefinger. He tugs it slowly, her hair brushed out of the way and her head turned just a little to the side so he can see her in profile. 

“Harry,” she whines when she, apparently, thinks he’s taking too long. 

He bends his knees, kisses the base of her neck, now left bare where her dress has parted. She takes in a quick breath. “Let me enjoy this,” he says quietly. 

She doesn’t complain again. 

… … …

Allie wakes up too early given how late they were up last night. The sun’s coming in and Harry’s got the duvet pushed down to his hips as he sleeps. She just watches him a second and then closes her eyes, trying to force herself back to sleep. But she can’t. And she knows it’s the stupid gift-opening brunch today, which is just...Look, this wedding has had a lot of events, and Allie’s exhausted, and now frustrated that despite how tired she feels, she can’t sleep. She reaches for her phone and it says it’s 7:46am. Ugh. 

Her stomach rumbles and she gets out of bed, reaches for Harry’s white shirt off the floor, and grabs the first pair of panties she can get her hand on in her suitcase. She closes the door gently behind her, then sort of laughs to herself. This house is so big there’s no way he’ll hear her in the kitchen unless she starts banging pots and pans together. 

This coffee maker is ridiculous, but Harry’d shown her how to use it over Christmas because she was getting frustrated not being able to just do it herself. It still sort of confuses her, but she at least knows now how to push the buttons and make the coffee come out. Once she’s got her mug in her hands, she steps out onto the back patio and breathes in morning air. Harry’s back yard is massive and landscaped and lined with trees on all sides, backing onto a little forest area. The morning dew is still on the ground, but the sun is up and it’s just sort of beautiful out here. She sits on one of the patio chairs for a while and only thinks once about how she wishes she’d brought her phone downstairs with her. There are birds chirping and there’s something really nice about being out here alone, undistracted, in the quiet. 

(In Harry’s shirt and some underwear. Shit. But then again, the way they spent the other night...Well, there’s no reason to be shy out here at this point.) 

She’s still hungry, so she heads back into the kitchen. There are bagels in the bread box and fancy cream cheeses in the fridge. _Thank you, Karen Bingham_. Allie also thinks of that bottle of champagne and wonders if it would be awful to make mimosas for one. 

Fuck it. She pops the cork and pours, after finding the fancy crystal champagne glasses in the cupboard. What? Your sister only gets married once, right? If Cassandra can make a whole fucking weekend celebration of it, so can Allie. She toasts a blueberry bagel and then realizes if she wanted to be _really_ cute, she could make Harry breakfast in bed. 

She finds a tray in the cupboard under the kitchen island, toasts his favourite type of bagel and puts a selection of cream cheeses in little dishes, then makes him an espresso and pours him a mimosa, too. Now she’s just gotta carry all this upstairs without dropping it. She decides to leave the bottle in the fridge, though of all things she’ll probably want more of, it’s definitely the champagne. 

He’s still lying exactly how she left him. It’s sort of adorable. 

Allie sets the tray down, then sits on the bed, runs her hand up his chest and he stirs, takes a breath, and turns his head. When his eyes blink open, he smiles sleepily and Allie just...she loves him an insane amount and sometimes when she looks at him it sort of hits her all at once. He places his hand on hers and holds it against his skin. 

“I did a cute thing,” she says instead of good morning. Harry smiles a little and blinks. She gets up, grabs the tray and he’s leaning up when she turns around again. 

“That is cute,” he says, voice thick with sleep. He rubs at his eye and crooks his finger at her. Which has a 100% success rate of getting her to move closer to him. She sets the tray on the bed. “Good morning.”

She kisses him. “Morning. Is it bad if we turn up drunk on champagne?”

Harry laughs, sips coffee and reaches for half a bagel. “Definitely.”

Allie gives him a little smile. “Wanna do it anyway?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, mouth full. Allie rolls her eyes and takes a bite, too. He asks how she slept. Asks if she had any dreams. Asks what time they have to leave. 

Drinking her mimosa too fast and then letting him roll her beneath him is a bad idea because they’re down to an hour before they have to be there, but, well. Who cares?

… … …

They’re only 20 minutes late, and that’s only because he barely obeys traffic laws to drive across town, and parks his car across the end of the driveway instead of down the street. 

“Sorry. Someone wouldn’t cut short his beauty routine,” Allie says when they walk in, and then tosses a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth and he swears if they were just in a group of friends and not family, he’d absolutely sell her out and tell them the real reason.

Anyway, it prompts a bunch of compliments about how good he looks, and Allie just stands back, cup of tea in her hand, and catches his eye when her aunt calls him handsome. He knows she knows he loves this kind of attention. 

Cassandra corners him in the kitchen when people are still eating but they’re done, and he’s bringing his and Allie’s plates to the dishwasher. Because he’s a good guest and also because he thinks it’s insane that they didn’t just use disposables, and he can’t make a comment like that and then not help. 

And when he says Cassandra corners him, what he really means is that she’s coming to get more water and he also happens to be in the kitchen. 

The way she asks, “How was your night last night, Harry?” lets him know she’s absolutely talking about _after_ the wedding, and like…

Look, he knows Allie and Cassandra share everything. Like, there’s really very little they don’t tell each other. It took him a long time to get even slightly comfortable with that. Even then, it was only after Christmas, when he and Gordie were talking alone about how fucking _weird_ it can be, and Harry started feeling a lot better just knowing he wasn’t the only one who felt it. 

But okay. Allie can tell Cassandra whatever she wants. And that means so can he. And what he wants to tell her is absolutely fucking _nothing_ about his sex life with her sister.

So he throws it back at her, asks, “How was _yours_?” and she just gives a coy little smile and her cheeks colour a bit. Harry laughs into his coffee cup. 

“I can’t say I ever thought I’d marry Gordie Moreno and my little sister would show up with Harry Bingham as her date.”

Harry’s smiling, but he rolls his eyes and gives her a look. He knows she doesn’t mean it this way, but he’s slightly put off by the fact that she just said he’s Allie’s _date_ like it’s casual, like he’s just someone she invited so she didn’t have to go alone, or something. 

“I’m a little more than her date.”

“Oh, god,” she says, laughing a little, and puts her hand on his arm. She gives him an apologetic look that he actually appreciates. “Yeah, I didn’t mean...Of course.” He catches Allie’s eye. She looks like she wants to know what’s going on. (Cassandra has a years’ long track record of setting him on edge; Allie’s a little defensive of him. He sorta loves that.) “I’m really glad you were here.”

Harry glances at her, a little confused. Not because he’s questioning whether or not she means those words. God, they’re not enemies anymore. They don’t have conflict. They also just don’t tend to like, acknowledge the fact that they ever did. Not seriously. They joke all the time. This isn’t that. The way she said that sounded almost like an apology, or something. 

Harry puts his arm around her, knowing she hates it when he does this and absolutely not caring. She laughs and pulls away from him as he says, “Me too.”

… … …

Allie flops down onto their sofa and he drops their bags by the door. She managed not to fall asleep on the drive home, kept awake by trying to find the best music and things she thought would make him laugh. And he’d promised they could nap together when they got in and she is absolutely holding him to that. 

She’s lying down on their couch when he comes into the living room with two glasses of water, and she moves over and he just smiles and lies down with her. He knows how much she loves it when she’s between his body and the back of the couch. He likes to pretend they only lie this way because it’s her preference here. He won’t just admit that he likes being little spoon. 

“That was a really good weekend,” she says, eyes slipping closed. Harry’s fingers slide between hers as her hand sits on his stomach and he lets out a hum. Without thinking about her choice of words, she says, “When we get married, let’s not do any of that.”

Harry chuckles, the sound amplified in her ear by how they’re lying, and she almost wishes the couch would swallow her up. Not because it’s insane to think of them marrying each other. God, they’ve been teasing each other about it for months. And it’s stupid, the way they do it. They’ll be sitting there and she’ll turn to him and ask him if he wants to get married and he’ll say ‘sure’ and then they’ll laugh and go back to whatever it is they were doing before. But this wasn’t a joke. She wishes she could pretend it was. But then she realizes she doesn’t need to do that either, does she? 

Because Harry just takes a deep breath, says, “Okay,” and then pauses a second before adding, “Go to sleep. You can keep talking about making me your husband after a nap.”

For the first time, even with all their joking, her stomach fills with butterflies at the idea. She presses a kiss to his shoulder through his shirt and doesn’t make any comment in response to what he’s said. He must also realize that means something serious, because he squeezes her hand and she smiles and thinks about how much she loves falling asleep with him.


End file.
